19. Clean Slate
19
Clean Slate
“You think I should forgive her, don’t you?” I ran my hand through Ben’s hair, his head a delectable weight on my chest. Our legs tangled under the sheet, his toes cold against my calf.
After our tears had dried, I had invited Ben back to bed, and we’d been lying here, entwined, for a long time. We hadn’t spoken much; we’d simply taken comfort in each other and the warmth of our bodies pressed together. But now that I’d broken our unspoken truce of silence, Ben sighed.
“I don’t know, Si. But if my mom came back and asked for a second chance, I think I’d give her one.” Before I could object, he continued. “It’s not the same, I know. My mom made her choice out of desperation and depression. Because she was drowning without hope of salvation. It was still selfish, but I can understand her, at least a little. Your mom… I don’t know why she walked out on you other than she didn’t want to be a mom anymore.
“So, no, it’s not the same, and if you never want to forgive her, I’ll support you. Blood and DNA don’t make family.” His index finger circled the dip of my throat. “My dad beat my mom for years, and after she died, he beat me too. I don’t think I need to forgive him for that or let him back into my life just because his sperm is what spawned my creation. I decide who my family is, and blood has nothing to do with it.”
“I don’t know if I can face her,” I admitted.
“Then don’t,” he said simply. “Tell Will you won’t come home until she’s gone. You’re an adult. You can choose who to allow in your life.”
I knew he was right, but it didn’t feel like I had the option. She was my mother, and as much as I hated her, there was an obligation there, settling heavily in my gut.
“Yeah, maybe. I don’t want to make Will choose, though.”
“Okay,” he said. “Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back. You know that, don’t you?”
I smiled to myself and twisted one of his curls around my index finger. “Yeah, Ben, I know.”
Like he’d been holding his breath out of nerves, he relaxed with an exhale. “Good.”
“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked, knowing the answer but needing confirmation.
“Of course, you can. You can stay here as long as you need. Aunt June and Uncle Henry won’t mind.”
I scoffed. “Have they said that?”
“Yes.” Angling his head, he looked up at me, cheek on my shoulder. “They even told Will that you can move in if you two decide to sell the house. There’s a guest room upstairs, or you can stay down here with me.”
My stomach clenched, and emotion swelled in my chest. “Sell the house?”
Ben’s smile dampened. “If you want. I mean, it’s a big house for just you. Will and Cora are going back to California at some point, right?”
“I…” Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. I was literally taking it one day at a time—sometimes, one minute at a time. “I guess.”
“You don’t have to move out. You can stay there until graduation, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head as my lungs stuttered. “Will’s gonna leave, and I’m gonna be alone. I quit my job months ago—I can’t afford the house. I—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down.” Ben helped me sit up, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. “Deep breaths.”
He inhaled slowly, and I mimicked him. Deep breath in. Slow exhale. We breathed together.
“The house is gonna be paid off. Your dad’s life insurance will come through, and after the funeral costs are deducted, you and Will get the rest, I’m sure. So, you don’t have to worry.” He kissed my suddenly sweaty forehead. “And even if it doesn’t work out that way, you’re not alone. You have your brother and your family. You have Aunt June and Uncle Henry.” A shy smile tipped his lips. “You have me.”
“Do I?” I gasped out.
He looked so inexplicably sad. “Yes. You have me.”
Shaking my head, I took my hand back and touched the shaved side of my head. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Stuff… happened. When we were, you know, broken up, and—”
“Nothing you say will change how I feel,” he said cautiously.
I grimaced. “You don’t know —”
“Whatever happened doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“Silas—”
“I fucked Eli!” I blurted, and Ben physically recoiled from my barbed words. “The night of the party, after I got everyone home, after I left you and Ronnie, he texted me and invited me over, and I went. I went, and we fucked.”
Ben’s eyes watered, and his hands fisted in his lap. I heard the click of his teeth as he ground them, and he exhaled in a jagged whoosh.
“Okay,” he said, sounding strangled.
“Okay?” I asked. “That’s it?”
“We were broken up. It’s not like you owed me anything.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
His eyes squeezed shut, but his voice was carefully controlled. “What? You want me to be mad at you or something?”
“Yes,” I said, and it was the truth. The guilt was eating me alive, and I wanted him to rage at me, to call me every foul name he knew. Because I deserved it.
When his eyes opened, they were turbulent, but it was sorrow, not anger, that caused the storm. “You slept with someone after we broke up. I kissed my ex while we were still together. I don’t think I have much of a platform to stand on—”
“Be mad at me,” I said.
“Why?” he demanded with a glare. “What good will that do? I’m so sick of being angry. Okay? Does it hurt? Yes. The thought of you with anyone else kills me, but I don’t want to be angry with you anymore.” He swiped his hand over his mouth. “Did it mean anything? Are you two, like, a thing now? Or…”
“No. It was just a bad night and a bad decision.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sniffled. “I’m sorry, Ben.”
“We weren’t together—”
“Just—” I pressed my fist to my mouth, forcing myself to take a deep breath. “Don’t, okay? It hurt seeing you with that girl at the party. We weren’t together, but it still hurt. I know this hurts you too. So just let me be sorry. Because I hate myself for it.”
“Then I forgive you,” he said quietly, and my eyes stung. “Can you forgive me? For Pat?”
I was so done with this conversation, with this day, with anger and bitterness and tears. I was fucking done. “Have you talked to him?”
He shook his head. “Not since I left Cali. We had a huge fight after you hung up on me, and I told him not to call me anymore. I can’t blame him completely because it’s not like he got me drunk or anything. I did that. I made those choices, and I kissed him back. But he admitted that he wanted us to hook up while I was out there, and he said it wouldn’t have mattered because you’d never know.”
I winced at that, and Ben cringed.
“He knew that you and I were on rocky ground. He picked up the phone, knowing how it would sound, knowing it would piss you off.”
“Did it mean anything?” I tossed his question back at him. “Do you still—”
“No,” he said vehemently. “It didn’t mean a thing. I was upset and wasted. We had that big argument before I left, and I didn’t know where we stood. And Pat was being nice. He was familiar and comfortable, but he wasn’t you. We kissed, and I just didn’t want to hurt anymore. But he wasn’t you, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, hoping to calm his sudden bout of desperation.
He took my hand and squeezed. “I love you, Silas, and I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
And I said, “I forgive you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, Ben. We both fucked up, so maybe we could start again. Clean slate?”
Drawing me into an embrace, Ben sighed against my scalp. “Clean slate.”
“I love you,” I said into his shoulder, and I felt him smile against my head.
“I love you too.”
We hugged it out for several minutes until my hip could take my position no longer. Ben, who had taken it upon himself to be my drug mule, dug my pain meds out of his pants pocket and gave me two to swallow. He drew me a hot bath and left me to soak as he went upstairs to scrounge up some food.
The bathtub was narrow and not very deep, but I made the best of it. The water was near scalding, but it eased the ache in my leg. My skin was pink and pruney by the time Ben returned with reheated chicken and dumplings and rolls. It smelled heavenly.
With some assistance, I climbed out of the tub and dried off. The bruises on my body were mottled and turning a sickly green color, and I tried to shield my body from view with my towel. Given my lack of subtlety, Ben noticed my attempts and rolled his eyes.
“You know I don’t care, right?” He came at me with a second towel and gently patted my head and hair dry. “Stop acting like you’re disgusting to look at.”
“I kind of am disgusting to look at,” I grumbled.
“You’re really not,” he said sternly before placing a firm kiss to my lips. “If it wouldn’t injure you, I would be all up in your business right now.”
I snorted. “You’re more than welcome to get up in my business any time you want. Injury be damned.”
He blushed. “Good to know.”
The next morning, Ben kissed my forehead and tucked the blankets around me before heading off to school. “I’ll be home before you know it,” he promised against my temple, and I grunted an affirming sound as I fell back asleep almost instantly.
Waking in his room, in his bed, without him was disorienting. My cane was propped against the side table, and I used it to help me hobble my way to the bathroom. I emptied my bladder and brushed my teeth with my finger. Then I sat on Ben’s bed and stared forlornly around the room.
What now? It was only ten in the morning. I had an entire day to kill before Ben was done at school. I couldn’t drive home, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted Will to come pick me up yet. I didn’t think I was ready to face my mother.
The choice was apparently made for me when, a half-hour after I’d woken, there came a knock at the door.
“Silas?” Will’s voice was tired as his knuckle rapped against the wood a second time. “Can I come in? Are you… decent?”
Dressed in a pair of Ben’s sweatpants and one of his shirts, I was as decent as possible, and I chuckled. “Yeah, Will. Come in.”
He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink last night, and I cringed as he hovered in the doorway, studying me.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said.
“You doing okay?”
“I guess. You?”
“I guess,” he parroted, and we fell into an awkward silence. He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “I didn’t know she’d be there, Silas. I would never have sprung that on you, okay?”
“But you knew she was in town?” I half-asked, half-accused.
Will flinched. “Yes, but I told her to wait. You needed time to heal and grieve, and her showing up wasn’t going to help with that. So I told her to be patient.”
“Patience was never her virtue.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, fingering the grip of my cane. “It’s not your fault. She was just there, and—is she at the house?”
My brother looked miserable as he nodded. “She needed a place to stay, and we have the room. I didn’t know how to tell her no.”
“In Dad’s room?”
“I didn’t think you’d want her in yours,” he snapped, the first signs of annoyance bleeding through.
“What if she messes with his stuff?” I demanded. “Or takes something.”
“She’s not here to steal Dad’s stuff.”
“How do you know?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Will glared. “She’s mourning too, Silas. Cut her some slack.”
“Mourning what?”
He gaped at me. “She loved him.”
“Bullshit,” I muttered, and Will balked like I’d slapped him.
“You’re so fucking childish sometimes,” he scoffed, and I barely resisted the urge to fling my cane at him. “Life is complicated. Just because she left doesn’t mean she didn’t love him or us.”
“Actually, it kind of does,” I bit out. “Maybe she loved us a little, but it obviously wasn’t enough to make her stay.”
Will swelled, gearing up for a fight, and I… was tired.
So I held up a hand and slowly shook my head. “Sorry, just forget it. I told you from the start, the first time you said she contacted you, that I wouldn’t stand in your way. You want to reconnect or whatever, go for it. But you can’t force me to forgive her or welcome her back with open arms. That’s not fair.”
The fight left him as quickly as it had come, and he slumped against the doorjamb. “You’re right. I’m sorry for letting her in the house without asking you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that she was in town. I just didn’t want to add more to your shoulders.” He sniffed, looking away as his throat worked. “I haven’t been the best brother to you the past few years, and I was trying to protect you, to give you time to get better before adding another stress—”
“You don’t need to take care of me,” I said, but he waved me off.
“You’re my little brother, and I haven’t been there for you. Jesus, I didn’t even know you were having issues at school until Dad called in tears about what that fucking psycho did to you. And then Ben broke your heart, and then I get a call that you’re fighting for your life after a car wreck and Dad—”
His breath hitched, and I struggled to my feet, limping across the room until I was yanking him into a hug. He buried his face in my neck, and I rubbed the back of his head as he panted hotly against my skin. His fingers twisted in my shirt, tightening his arms around me just shy of pain.
“I’m gonna do right by you,” he huffed, breath moist on my throat. “I swear I’m gonna do right by you.”
“You always have, Will. You’re the best brother I could ever ask for, and I—I love you, okay?”
“I love you too,” he choked out, and I almost laughed.
“I’m so sick of crying,” I said when we parted, and he wiped at his nose with a nod.
“Right? Fucking sucks.”
“It really does,” I agreed.
After we finished mopping our eyes, Will cleared his throat noisily and motioned to the stairway behind him. “Will you come home? You don’t have to talk to Mom—”
“She’s there. It’s gonna be hard for me to avoid her,” I interrupted.
“Please,” he said with a hint of pleading. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you right now. But please, come home.”
I heaved an exaggerated sigh. “The things I do for family.”
Will laughed, hooking an arm around my neck to plant a kiss on my head. “Thanks. Let me grab your stuff.”
Stuffing my clothes from yesterday into a ball, he tucked them under his arm and offered me his other hand to help me up the stairs. Aunt June was in the kitchen, dressed in bubblegum pink scrubs and her monster feet slippers. She beamed at us as we stopped in the mudroom, Will crouching down to help slip on my shoes.
“All right, dear?” she asked, and I nodded.
“Yeah, thanks for letting me crash here.”
“You’re always welcome, Silas. You know that.” She walked over and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Let us know if there’s anything you need.” She narrowed her eyes at Will. “Both of you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Will said, and she arched an eyebrow. “Aunt June,” he corrected, and I snorted a laugh.
“Good boys.” She patted my cheek then bustled back to the kitchen where she resumed throwing chopped vegetables into a crockpot.
After bidding her farewell, we walked through the garage and down the driveway. I stumbled to a stop when I caught sight of Dad’s SUV parked on the curb. Will was already opening the driver’s door, chucking my clothes into the backseat. He didn’t notice my hesitation.
Forcing myself to approach the car, I ignored the tightness in my chest and the burn in my throat. The inside smelled exactly as it had the last time, of Old Spice deodorant, leather seats, and the terrible Pine Fresh air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.
“I’m signing the title over to your name next week,” he said as I buckled my seatbelt.
“The title?”
He patted the steering wheel lovingly, then turned the key in the ignition. “You’ll want to sell it before you head to New York, but until then, you need a car. The truck wasn’t salvageable.”
“Right.”
The drive passed in silence after that, and neither of us felt the need to break it. Will’s rental was parked in the driveway when we pulled into the garage. The engine cut off, and our silence thickened the air in the car. With a pat on my knee, Will unbuckled and opened his car door.
“How long do you think I could survive out here? A month? Maybe two?” I mused as I grudgingly climbed out of the SUV.
Will grinned. “An hour tops.”
I blew a raspberry and flipped him off as we trudged across the driveway. He grabbed my elbow to steady me when the three tiny porch steps threatened to knock me on my ass.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as we reached the door. I glared at the offending wood like it was the door’s fault for all my problems, fortifying myself for what was about to happen. Will’s fingers tightened comfortingly on my elbow. “Let’s get this over with, hmm?”
“I’m on your side, okay?” he whispered like a secret between us. “No matter what happens, I got your back.”
“You better,” I said when I really meant thank you .
Will understood. He smiled. It was a little tense, but he didn’t say anything else before he opened the door and ushered me inside.
Cora was sitting on the couch, a book in her hand. She looked relieved when I hobbled into the house after Will. Her book slammed shut with a thump , and she stood, casting an anxious glance at the stairway over her shoulder.
“You’re back,” she said, stating the obvious.
“Was it okay?” Will asked.
She nodded, and they kissed.
I wrinkled my nose.
He scowled at me. “Oh, don’t give me that. I’ve had to deal with you and Ben making moon eyes at each other for days!”
I gasped in offense. “Moon eyes? I have never in my life made moon eyes at anyone.”
“You make moon eyes at Ben all the time,” Cora said with a wistful smile. “It’s very sweet.”
Will grimaced as I feigned a gag, but before either of us could respond, a new voice spoke up. “Who’s Ben?”
Every muscle in my body locked, and my blood froze in my veins.
Slowly, reluctantly, I looked at the bottom of the stairs where my mother stood. Seeing her after all these years was like a punch to the stomach. She wore a pair of light gray cotton pants that ended at her ankles, matched with a blue and green floral blouse and a pair of simple black flats on her feet.
Her tawny hair was graying in places, and she had more faults in her skin, laugh lines crinkling her eyes and aged wrinkles creasing her brow. She’d never been overly tall, but now that I’d grown, she was almost small in comparison.
“Hey, Mom,” Will said as he hung up his coat, then helped me out of mine.
“Ben’s the blond, right?” she asked, gaze still locked on me.
Like prey trapped in the crosshairs of a hunter, I moved cautiously, nodding once. “Yes.”
“Your boyfriend?”
Again, I said, “Yes.”
Will faltered at that, exchanging a look with Cora, but neither of them spoke.
My mother nodded, a careful smile tilting her lips. “You’re so tall.”
“That tends to happen when people hit puberty,” I said, unable to keep the waspish tone from my voice.
Her smile faded. “You’re a spitting image of Charlie when I met him in college.”
Hearing his name on her lips hurt, and I bit my tongue to keep from lashing out at her. I only managed to curb the venom as I said, “Is there a particular reason you’re here?”
“Silas,” Will chided.
Grace waved him off. “No, Will. That’s a fair question.” Color crested over her cheeks, but she held my gray gaze with her own. “When I heard that Charlie had passed, that you’d been in a serious accident, I was worried about you, about you both. ”
“Worried about us? Where has your worry been for the past six years?” I bit out, but she didn’t rise to bait.
“I’m not here to hurt you, Silas. I’m here to help if you’ll let me.”
“I don’t need your help.”
She nodded, jaw clenching. We stood in awkward silence for a moment, before she cleared her throat and tried again. “Will told me about NYU. I know Charlie was very proud—”
“Don’t,” I barked, and she flinched. “Don’t you talk about me like you know me.”
“Sweetheart—”
“You left!” I shouted, and she took a few steps back. “For six fucking years. How dare you show up here like it’s nothing!”
For a moment, shame colored her face, and she swallowed thickly. “There’s no reason to raise your voice.”
I laughed, a high-pitched, manic sound. “If there was ever a time to raise my voice, it would be now. You showed up at his funeral, like you had a right to be there. You stand here in this house, where he raised us, like you’re entitled to be here.
“Will might have invited you to stay here, but do not be mistaken. You are not welcome here, Grace.”
To my horror, a tear escaped the corner of her eye, carving a wet trail down her cheek. How dare she cry! She had no right to cry.
An uncomfortable silence descended, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Will’s jaw twitched. Cora clung to Will’s arm, nails digging in. I glared at my mother. She stared mournfully back at me.
“I deserve your anger,” she whispered softly, choosing her words with care. “I don’t expect your forgiveness, Silas, but I hope you’ll give me a chance to earn it.”
Her sincerity hurt, and I wanted to throw it back in her face. But my leg was shaking, and I feared if I didn’t leave now, I’d break right in front of her. I didn’t want that.
“Whatever,” I finally said, hobbling toward the stairs.
My mother shuffled back until there was enough space I could pass her without touching her. “Do you need—”
“I don’t need your help!” I practically snarled the words, and an impatient breath whistled in her nose.
“Stop being so stubborn,” she chided, and I leveled her with a cold stare.
“You left six years ago. Stop acting like my mother.”
Another flinch. More color splotching her cheeks.
“Whether you want to admit it or not, I am your mother,” she said.
My laugh was dark and serrated. “No, Grace, you’re not.”
I watched the words slice deep with a cruel satisfaction, but my mother didn’t strike back. She took the hit, eyes glossing over as she took yet another step back.
Without another word, I climbed the stairs with all the finesse of a newborn foal. When I finally stumbled into my bedroom, I shut the door firmly behind me and collapsed onto my bed.
In the quiet solitude of my room, I broke down and cried.